I was wrong.
Let me repeat that – I. WAS. WRONG.
It’s been a recurring theme throughout my life. Usually, I’m right 100% of the time, but wrong the other 9 times out of 10.
Like now, when I’m WRONG.
Here all this time, I believed Lost Causey was the creature known as “Embryriddlealum.”
I was mistaken. Another word for that would be WRONG.
Every time I tried to broach the subject, he just took a smart ass tone like he was playing with me.
Because I was wrong.
This time for sure, I know who “Embryriddlealum” is, and he gave HIMSELF away!
The first six hundred twelve times, I fucked up. Because I was wrong.
I made a mistake. Actually I made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Oh, so many mistakes.
But first… I am not allowed to contact Lost.
Because, you know, if you haven’t noticed, I was So. Fucking. Wrong. And because I WAS WRONG, I cannot contact him.
But if I could, I would apologize.
Thank God I was wrong, because now I can’t contact him. I’m NEVER EVER WRONG (except when I’m breathing), but if there’s one thing worse than being wrong, it’s having to apologize.
But now I don’t have to, ha-ha-ha, because I was WRONG.
This does not excuse his swearing out an Injunction Against Harassment against me, a poor, indigent, disabled retiree who can’t walk or barely speak, a sweet old teddy bear who wouldn’t harm a flea, but would, in a fucking second, carve Embryriddlealum’s heart right out of his chest and show it to him before taking a big bloody chomp out of it as he curls up and dies like the cur he is. And his little dog Toto, too!
But I would never do that. Because that would be wrong.
Like me. I’m wrong.
Wrong about labeling Lost Causey as the vile and disgusting “Embryriddlealum.” (It’s probably his wife, Itza.)
But I’m not wrong now. Or maybe I am. I don’t know. Whatever.
But this I can tell you, with the exact same 100 percent certainty that I knew it was Lost Causey, that “Embryriddlealum” is none other than the same person who tweets as “Guntotingteabag” and “LiberalGrouch” and “ParkyBillTweets” “2014Radio” and “RadioFreeOfBrainCells” and “RadioWiseGuy” and “RadioLobotomy” and “INeedALobotomy” and “IWhizzedOnTheElectricFence” and “BrainSandwichLobotomy” and “ShakyBrainRadio” and “FamousLobotomyParky” and “ParkyCyberStalker” and “DerangedAnalBigot” and “KimberlinsBitchToy” and “BallGaggedByBrett” and “OwnedLikeToby” and “TeabaggedByBobber” and “IndigentDisabledVictim” and “FootlongWithMayo” and “KnottyBitch” and God Knows How Many Other Sock Puppets. He is – oh, please oh please oh please oh please ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease God let me be right this time – Christopher Heather of Racine, Wisconsin.
I was wrong before. And the time before that. And the time before that. Aaaaand the time before that, and that and that.
But I’m not wrong this time. Because except for every time I’ve been wrong, which is only about 99 times out of 100, I’m right 100% of the time.
Chris Heather, who has been ERA at least four other times previously, with soon to be dead girlfriend Kendra, who never calls or writes her dad who isn’t really even her dad, although we really have no idea why.
Follow me. You’ll enjoy this. Because you know I’m going to end up being wrong and deleting this post and the hundred or so tweets about it.
I started to suspect I was wrong – get that? I was WRONG! AGAIN!! – about Causey being ERA about 6 years before Al Gore even invented the internet. Even though I am a liberal scumbag and was completely gobsmacked and sent slinking back to my slime pit during the Operation Burn Notice nonsense, I contacted one of the senior folks of the former Knot My Wisconsin group, with Alzheimer’s, and with whom I’ve developed a friendly relationship because he has no idea who I am. Like that nice old lady in Oregon had no idea who I am either. I was right about her being PEMason54 too, remember. I had to 404 those posts for some reason. I don’t remember why. Whatever. He said he was aware of “Aaron Burr” who killed an “Alexander Hamilton” a long time ago and now tweets as “SuperAaronBurr” and is, in fact, 210 years later, Lost Causey of Khaki Valley, AZ. My new friend could not say for sure (I think one or both of us fell asleep), but he was fairly certain that Heather Locklear was ERA.
That was just what I wanted to hear. Because it means I was WRONG.
So, because I think and write like an 8 year old girl with Down’s Syndrome, I laid a little trapsy wapsy for ERA today. I did a simple search on the Wisconsin Judiciary Case Search and found a domestic violence case involving Chris Heather and a girl named Stacy Thomas. I’ve been taunting ERA with that all afternoon because I NEVER START AAAAANYTHING! He gave himself away when I said I had called her and she said the fight was because she made fun of my junk.
No wait, that’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Sometimes I’m wrong. Not often, though. Only 999 times out of 1000.
I didn’t say she made fun of my junk. I said she made fun of MY junk.
ERA, as idiots like me will do, gave himself away.
Hah. So, he knows Stacy Thomas had shuffled off the mortal coil. Keep in mind, I did not mention Heather Locklear at all in my very characteristic I-NEVER-START-AAAAAAAAAANYTHING! taunting of ERA today. In fact, because I’m so smart (think “Fredo Corleone” smart) I covered his name on the Wisconsin report. Regard my epic SOOOPER GEEEENYUSSSSNEZZZS!
Like a big old catfish (say, I heard this joke the other day: what’s the difference between Bill Schmalfeldt and a catfish? One is a scum-sucking, bottom-dwelling garbage eater, and the other is a fish! I don’t get it. Whatever.) Heather, or ERA – embryriddlealum is hard to type more than 5 times in a thousand word post, you know – if you will, took the bait. The rest was just legwork, no pun intended (because I’m a cripple, you know, a poor, indigent, disabled failure of a dying crippled cripple-y crip-crip-cripple, get it?). No problem for a genius super ethical puhrtend internet investigative journamalist.
1. ERA knows a Stacy Thomas and knows she is dead.
2. Stacy Thomas was the respondent in a domestic abuse case, which must mean she beat the wimpy bastard Chris Heather up – there can’t be any other possible explanation. Just like there couldn’t possibly be any other explanation but that the person I continue to seek to frame for threatening the dogs who love to lick mayonnaise off my privates was a senior citizen in Oregon. Remember how I was EXACTLY RIGHT about that for like, 45 minutes before I 404’d it when I turned out to be WRONG AGAIN AS USUAL!
Anyway, here’s the original file.
Now this all happened in 1995. 20 years ago. Why should we care? WE shouldn’t. But I do. Because I am a psychotic fucking nutcase with a blog and Twitter audience of about 6 and I believe that I can shame and intimidate people off the internet by telling secrets in the public record that even my targets don’t give a shit about – because even when I’m right about the embarrassing facts, I’m wrong about the target 9,999 times of 10,000.
And that’s just fucking WRONG. Which is your basic, all-encompassing perfect description of…ME!!
So, we know that Heather Locklear lives in Racine.
So, where did Stacy Thomas live in 1995?
Is it possible that there could have been another Stacy Thomas living in the area at the time? Is it worthwhile to try and find out? Of course not! Because if I found one, then someone could say I was WRONGWRONGWRONGWRONGWRONGWRONGWRONG.
And I’m always right. Except for every other time I’ve doxed ERA. But not this time. This time I’m sure it’s Itza Lost Causey!
And you will notice she died in 2010. In Virginia. Much closer to my neck of the woods, you see. And I was a bit more mobile then than am now. I’m not suggesting that I had anything to do with Stacy’s death, you understand.
Because that would be wrong.
And I’m only wrong 99,999 times out of 100,000. The rest of the time I’m perfect, the World’s Greatest and Most Awesomest Investigative Journalist. Ever. Ezra Klein should hire me.
According to the Social Security Death Index….
Hey look! A social security number! Anybody need to apply for a mortgage? I’ll bet her credit is excellent with no missed payments for 4 years.
A. Heather Locklear got beat up by Stacy Thomas (mmm…girl fight)
B. I disguised Heather’s name on the court report and accused ERA of getting beaten up by a girl. But I wasn’t starting anything!
C. ERA denied it all. And no matter how much she denies, even on a stack of Bibles in a court of law, she must by a lying dog because I AM NEVER WRONG except for 999,999 times out of 1,000,000.
D. I told him I talked to her and she made fun of the fact that my feet are hairier than Bilbo Baggins’s and I pee out the top of my head.
E. ERA says, “Oh, you can talk to corpses?” Meaning he knows she’s dead. And he probably knows I killed her, too.
F. A simple search – which is about all I’m capable of anymore, unless it involves REALLY POOR quality photoshops of Ali Akbar- finds Stacy L. Thomas, who once lived 5 miles away from Chris Heather, died in Virginia in 2010. She’s the right age, or… was, I should say. And therefore, in the same manner that I was right about Palatine Pundit being KimberlinUnmasked and having a weapons training permit despite being dead (404’d, of course), I must be right about the Stacy Thomas who died in Virginia being the same one who must have carved Heather Locklear’s face off in college.
G. I never once mentioned the name “Heather” in my taunt.
But there was this little girl named Heather when I was in grade school…I remember I used to chase her around the playground, but I could never catch her because I was already big and slow at age 8, physically as well as intellectually. Once I caught her when she wasn’t looking and tried to give her a kiss. She slapped me and kicked me in the junk.
Stupid girls, I hate them!
I got her, though. She fell in the river and drowned just a couple days before we moved away. I remember it well, especially anytime I’m close to a rushing river and smell the water. I can almost feel her stringy hair in between my fingers as I –
Uh, never mind. Where was I?
[A*(B+C)/D-(E^F) + 3.1415927*G] over the square root of the hypotenuse = ERA is HEATHER LOCKLEAR RAINES, who “accidentally drowned” in 1963!
This time. See, I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t. No, I wasn’t. SHUT UP, MOTHER! YOU’RE DEAD! WHY WON’T YOU JUST STAY DEAD???
So, give it up, ERA. You, slimeball, are BUSTED!!!
At least until I need to bend reality again. Which I can do. Because I’m Dook Man. My bigs have super powers. Speaking of which…
Oh, but before I post this, there’s just one more thing to say:
IF YOU TAKE ONE THING AWAY FROM THIS POST, THIS WOULD BE IT: except for the rest of the time when I am always 100% completely mistake free, I only foul up really bad 9,999,999 times out of 10,000,000.
And that’s a lot better than I used to be.